by Gina Lamm
“No,” she whispered, anxiety clogging her throat. “No, it wasn’t your fault.”
“Don’t you see, Jamie?” His voice lowered, roughening. “Seeing you the way I saw Louisa has broken me. I cannot face it again.”
“But it wasn’t your fault,” she said, closing the gap between them, grabbing his hands. They were ice cold. “It wasn’t you at all.”
He stepped back, pain clear on his face. “A man who cannot keep you safe is a man who does not deserve you.”
He crossed to the door.
“Mike, please,” she said through her tears. Her voice came out strained, pitiful. “Let’s talk about it.”
He didn’t turn to face her as he turned the knob to leave. So softly she couldn’t really believe that she heard it, he said, “There is nothing that can be done. I have failed you. Please, be safe upon your return journey. Good-bye, Miss Marten.”
He closed the door behind him, the click of the latch finishing the crack in her heart.
She stared at the back of the door, wondering what in the hell she was supposed to do now. She sank down on the edge of the bed and let the tears fall.
It was only a few minutes later when a timid knock sounded.
“Miss Jamie? Are you well?” Mrs. Knightsbridge’s voice floated through the door.
“Not really,” she said, turning as she dashed the moisture on her cheeks away. “But come in anyway.”
Jamie flopped onto her back as the door shut behind the housekeeper. She started picking up the mess in the room, not commenting on the evidence of Jamie’s recent crying jag.
When Jamie was sure her throat had relaxed enough to sound more normal, she spoke. “Mrs. K?”
“Yes?”
Jamie turned her head toward the housekeeper. “What would happen if Mike found out you were a witch?”
Mrs. K paused midstoop, abandoning the basin she’d been about to pick up. She stood and faced Jamie, looking older and more careworn than Jamie had ever seen her. She walked to the bed, sitting softly beside Jamie.
“Micah is like a son to me,” she said, looking down at her hands. “For a man in his position to employ a witch? It would be unthinkable.”
“So, it’s not that someone would throw you in jail or kill you, but you don’t want to disappoint Mike.” Jamie sat up, pinning the housekeeper with a look of complete desperation. She had to tell the truth. It was Jamie’s only shot.
“People still fear the old ways. His lordship has suffered enough without having to bear the shame of a housekeeper that dabbles in witchcraft.”
Jamie swung her legs off the opposite side of the bed, staring at the wall. “So, we can’t prove that Collette tried to kill me because you don’t want Mike disappointed in you. He’s broken our engagement and told me to go home because he can’t keep me safe from whoever’s trying to kill me. He has no proof it’s Collette because the one with the proof is scared to give it to him.”
Jamie stood and rounded the end of the bed. She stared at the old woman, hoping the pain and confusion that boiled inside her was plain in her eyes.
“If you cared about him the way you say you do, then you’d tell the truth. I love him, and I really think he loves me too. But how am I supposed to figure this out now? You are my only shot at happiness with him, and you won’t say a damn word.”
Mrs. K didn’t reply, only shook her head sadly.
Jamie slammed the flat of her hand against the wall, anger and pain overwhelming her control. “You are the whole reason I’m here! You didn’t give a shit about what you took me from, how this little vacation would affect my life, or anything! You claimed you were thinking about him, but what were you really doing, Wilhelmina? Were you thinking about him or about yourself?” Jamie stepped over to her, her voice lowering to a harsh whisper. “Well, congratulations. I’m in love. He’s in love. And now we’re both fucked because you can’t tell the goddamn truth.”
Mrs. Knightsbridge’s cheeks were wet with tears when she got up and left the room. Jamie didn’t apologize.
***
Jamie spent the rest of the day in the garden with Baron. She tossed sticks for him, but he gave up chasing them when she started dropping them right in front of her feet. She didn’t have the energy to hurl them across the yard anymore. She didn’t have the energy to fight anymore. She wanted things to go back to the way they were before Collette had poisoned her. Back to believing that she and Mike could somehow surmount the odds against them. She saw the obstacles way too clearly now. She didn’t like that.
As she slumped against a tree trunk, watching Baron wallow in a patch of sunlight, she thought about doing what Mike had asked her—asking Mrs. Knightsbridge to open the portal, stepping through it, and going back to her lonely existence in her own time. Tears stung her eyes at the thought, and she slammed her lids shut. No. She couldn’t. She’d stay here and fight for it. For them. He loved her, she loved him, and they were worth fighting for. Maybe he’d discover it was Collette on his own, and she wouldn’t have to depend on the housekeeper. Either way, Jamie had to tell him she’d made a decision and hope that he respected it. It wouldn’t be easy to convince him, but she had no other choice if she wanted to keep him.
When the sun fell low in the cloudy sky, Jamie made her way in from the chilly yard. Mike still wasn’t back home. She guessed he was out trying to do detective work to figure out what Jamie already knew. Collette was a psychotic bitch who’d killed Louisa and tried to kill Jamie to have the earl—and his money—for herself. Jamie shook her head as she stomped her way up the stairs. If Mrs. K would…No. She won’t. Jamie would have to do this on her own, without any help from the housekeeper. Jamie shut the bedroom door behind her and rang for Muriel.
The maid helped Jamie dress for dinner, the little maid quieter than usual. Jamie wondered if Mrs. K told her they’d argued. Probably not, as not even Muriel was aware of the housekeeper’s other nature. Jamie was sure her nervousness didn’t help anything. Her one-word answers to Muriel’s questions made it clear she was preoccupied.
Muriel dressed Jamie in the most daring outfit she’d ever put her in—a midnight-blue dress, its wide neckline plunging low, revealing almost as much cleavage as she’d seen in the ballroom a few nights ago. Muriel pinned jewels in the curls she mounded high on Jamie’s head and laid a beautiful necklace around her throat. The deep color made Jamie’s skin and hair highlights glow.
“Thank you,” Jamie said as she pulled on her gloves and stepped to the bedroom door.
“You look beautiful, miss.”
Jamie descended the stairs in hopes that her earl would be home for dinner. Thornton gave her a glass of wine when she reached the sitting room, and she sipped it nervously for half an hour. No Mike.
George escorted her into the dining room, seating her in her normal place. There was a setting for Mike, but he didn’t show.
The lamb was delicious, and she didn’t want to hurt Jean Philippe’s feelings, but she couldn’t eat more than a few bites. She was too nervous. Where was he? What was he doing, thinking, who was he with? Why wouldn’t he come home and let her talk to him?
After poking at her food for a solid hour, Jamie finally gave up and went to the music room. She sank down on the bench, rested her fingers on the keys, and waited.
Nothing.
She rubbed against the ivory, the unique, smooth texture rippling against her fingers, but the music stayed silent inside her. She pressed a few keys, but they came out discordant, wrong. She shook her head, trying to clear it. Where was her muse?
“You should have gone.”
Jamie stood, stumbling over the end of the bench. Mike. He stood in the doorway, only the white of his shirt contrasting with the deep black of his waistcoat, jacket, and pants. He looked so severe, his cheeks drawn and eyes almost as black as his coat.
Jamie marshaled her courage and loosed the torpedoes. “I’m not going back.”
He took a step toward her. “You must.”
<
br /> “No, I mustn’t. We love each other. We can beat this thing together, but if I go back, that’s it. I think we deserve another chance, so I’m not going anywhere.” Jamie lifted her chin, trying to look determined.
He closed his eyes, and his head fell. Half a dozen heartbeats went by before he said anything.
“Is there nothing I can say to change your mind?”
She shook her head, willing her fluttering pulse to even out.
He opened his eyes. His solemn expression seemed to pierce her through. “If you are to stay with me, then I will do what I deem necessary.”
A little ray of hope lit her dark and anxious heart. “I can stay, really?”
He straightened his jacket and looked down on her. That look…that autocratic, forbidding, austere look. He hadn’t used that look on her since, well, since the first days she’d been there.
“I must go and inform the staff of your decision, and their new duties because of it. I bid you good evening.”
His curt bow was followed by a nod, and he turned to go.
“Mike, what does that mean? Wait, come back. Let’s talk about this.”
He paused in the doorway, not turning back. “I will do what is required to keep you safe.”
And he left.
Twenty-Seven
Jamie sat in the music room for two hours after Mike left. She didn’t play a note. She stared at the wall, wishing she could make sense of everything. Of anything, really. He hadn’t fought her decision to stay, but his reaction to it had been so odd. Maybe he needed more time.
It seemed like time was only adding to their problems, though. With every passing day, she was more in love with him, and things were more impossible than ever. What a crap situation this had turned out to be. Nothing was right in her world. Everything was skewed, tilted, just off enough to make things impossible.
When she stood, her legs were numb from sitting so still. As her circulation returned, the angry pins and needles stabbed her with every step she took, and she was forced to go slowly. Muted voices rumbled inside Mike’s office, but the door was shut tight. She couldn’t make out what was being said, but Thornton wasn’t at his usual post.
Jamie climbed the stairs laboriously, clutching at the banister for support. Muriel was waiting for her in the Lemon bedchamber, and as the maid helped her remove the midnight gown, Jamie couldn’t help wondering if she’d won or lost that battle.
Either way, she thought as she snuggled in bed next to a bony gray dog, I’m here. And I’m not leaving Mike without a fight.
***
Mike didn’t show up to breakfast the next morning. Jamie hadn’t expected him, honestly, but it was hard not to be disappointed that he was avoiding her so much. She wasn’t really hungry, so she decided to take Baron out for a walk instead of staring at a plate full of food. It wasn’t until she’d grabbed Baron’s leash and tried to exit the front door with the dog that she figured out why Mike was avoiding her.
“My apologies, Miss Marten, but I cannot allow you to leave the house today.” Thornton’s voice was kind but firm as he blocked her way to the exit. “George will take the hound for his walk.”
“What do you mean, I can’t leave the house?” Jamie stared at the old butler as the red-headed footman came forward and took the strip of leather from her nerveless hand.
“His lordship’s orders. I am sorry, miss.” Thornton stared at her, his salt-and-pepper eyebrows high in sympathy.
George’s face was pale but his movements sure as he slipped the lead onto Baron. The footman and the dog disappeared out the front door, Baron’s whip-like tail wagging faster as he trotted out into the sunshine. The door shut softly behind them, leaving Jamie alone with the butler in the dimly lit entryway.
She looked down at the toes of her slippers. “Guess I’ll go walk in the garden, then.”
Thornton stopped her as she turned. “Miss?”
“Yeah?”
“You are not to leave the house.”
Her jaw dropped. “I can’t even go out into the garden?”
He shook his head slowly.
Frustration simmered in her chest as she stomped away from Thornton. She had to leave before she shot the messenger. It certainly wasn’t Thornton’s fault that his master was an overprotective dictator.
Jamie, he loves you. Somebody tried to poison you a couple of days ago. He’s trying to keep you safe.
Shut up, logical side. I have no time for you.
Jamie flopped down on the settee in the parlor and stared at the ceiling. Lord, I thought I’d been bored out of my skull before. What the heck do I do now?
The day passed more slowly than any previous day ever had. Jamie tried to bribe Muriel into sneaking her out the servants’ entrance. She just wanted to get some fresh air. The maid agreed but chickened out when Mrs. K began loudly singing as she swept the back stairs. Jamie opened her bedroom window and poked her head out, but the garden was too far down to jump. She’d probably break a leg if she tried it.
Jamie sat in her bedroom, chair scooted as close to the window as she could get it. She propped her chin in her hands on the windowsill and sighed as bluebirds hopped from branch to branch in the garden tree. Since her phone was completely dead now, there was nothing to distract her at all. Her thoughts turned to her real-life adventure game, which could be deadly if she didn’t stay on her toes.
Collette couldn’t know she was still alive. Her poison had worked for Louisa, and there was no reason she should suspect a different outcome for Jamie. Jamie would have to make sure to keep Collette in the dark. Any other attempts on Jamie’s life would probably convince Mike he had to force her to go back home. She’d evaded his wishes this time, but she had a feeling it wouldn’t be a regular occurrence. He was too used to getting his way. Smug, entitled, beautiful, wonderful man.
Jamie killed time staring outside and chucking some hazelnuts out the window to the squirrels. She almost beaned one upside the head with a nut. Whoops.
She still wasn’t hungry, but she was so excited when lunchtime rolled around to have something to do that she could barely stand it.
When she got into the dining room, Mike was seated at his usual place. Two plates full of food were set in front of him, and two glasses were full beside them. He held a fork, and another lay beside one of his plates.
Jamie walked to her usual spot, confusion wrinkling her forehead as she sat at the empty space. Where her place setting usually was, empty tablecloth gleamed at her. What a way to diet.
“Are you extra hungry? If you’re a growing boy, you can certainly have some of mine, but it’s polite to ask before you steal someone’s food.”
Mike shook his head, not even acknowledging her lame attempt at humor. He continued cutting into a piece of beef on one of the plates. He took a bite, chewing thoroughly before swallowing. His mouth worked, almost looking like he was tasting it thoughtfully.
“Is everything okay? Should I come back later?”
He swallowed and wiped his mouth before replying. “One moment.”
She watched as he finished sampling a bite of everything on the plate, making the same thoughtful tasting face after each bite. He took a healthy swig of the wine in one of the glasses, swished it around in his mouth, then nodded.
He stood, lifting the plate and glass he’d been eating and drinking from, and brought them over to her place. He set the plate in front of her, and the glass at her right hand.
“There. It has all been tasted. I have suffered no ill effects, so you needn’t be concerned with tainted food or wine.”
She stared down at the plate in front of her, trying to process what had just happened. Mike went back to his own plate and began cutting his meat.
Jamie picked up her fork, but the metal was strangely cold to the touch. She put it back down again, rubbing her palm against her skirt. She looked over to Mike, who was now eating like nothing had happened.
“What was that all about?”
He swallowed the bite he’d been chewing and looked at his plate as he spoke. “Since you refused to return to your own time where you are safe, I am taking measures to protect you. Any further attempts to poison you will fail, as you will not consume anything that has not been first tasted by another.”
Bitter, leaden worry filled her stomach like rocks. “So if someone poisons my food, it’s not a problem because you’ll drop dead instead of me. Is that what you’re saying?”
Mike crooked a brow at her as he sipped his wine but didn’t say anything.
“Sorry, but that isn’t really okay with me. Oddly enough, the last few days haven’t made me stop loving you. If someone tries to poison me again but gets you instead, I’d be worse off than if I’d died in the first place.”
He leaned forward, jaw tight and eyes intense. “I asked you to return. You refused. This is my home, and if you wish to stay here with me, then I will do what is necessary to keep you safe.”
Jamie stared at him for a long time. Her brain and her heart couldn’t agree on what to feel. On one hand, Mike’s caring and consideration made her feel priceless, loved, cherished. On the other, his autocratic, high-handed manner and refusal to see her as an equal felt about as great as sandpaper on a sunburn.
She looked down at the plate that he’d set in front of her. If she ate, then she’d be showing him her approval of his actions. If she didn’t, then she’d be throwing his protection in his face. Talk about damned one way or the other.
She shook her head and breathed heavily. The truth. She had to tell him. They couldn’t go on this way, not without her wanting to strangle him with his high-handed attitude. Closing her eyes, she said, “We need to talk.”
“There is nothing to discuss.”
“No, Mike, there’s a lot to discuss. I know that things are different here, but where I come from, men and women in a romantic relationship are partners. Equals. I know you think you’re doing the right thing, but you’re making me feel like a child who can’t take care of herself.”
“What would you have me do, Miss Marten? Shall I stand by and watch you waltz into harm’s way with naught but your wits to save you?” The rough edge in his voice pulled her eyes open.
